


What She Saw

by Shaddy_pink



Series: Them [1]
Category: Spirou et Fantasio
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Relationships, Introspection, M/M, Multi, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaddy_pink/pseuds/Shaddy_pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, Seccotine always had the upper hand, and nothing could ever change that. Nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Spirou et Fantasio and all related intellectual property belong to the Dupuis publishing company.

***

Seccotine liked to think she was a woman without regrets, without hesitation.

She simply took what she wanted, seized it by the throat, and threw it down under her grasp so nobody else could mistake it as anything but hers.

It was a ruthless way to live, but hey, that’s the world of journalism for you.

She hadn’t failed to notice, however, that these philosophies had made her way to other aspects of her life, outside the realm of work:

She could blame a certain redhead for that.

***

Under the premise of simply trying to conserve body heat, she could get as close to the bellhop-turned-journalist as she liked- he was clever, heroic, not to mention cute as hell, of course she was going to seduce him! The kicker was how she could say it was a glowing mushroom that did most of the work.  
  
When Fantasio found them later on, lip-locked and limbs tangled, the expression on his face, as well as Spirou’s, almost made her laugh out loud.  
  
“Care to join us?” she purred, already relishing the sight of the two men squirming and spluttering in protest-  
  
Except it didn’t happen.  
  
Not how she expected it to, anyway.  
  
Yes, they did their fair share of carrying on as Spirou groaned in embarrassment while (gently, politely) rolling off of her and Fantasio bemoaned of going blind from the sight, but she couldn’t take any satisfaction from it,  
  
Because, just a moment before, and only for a split-second, Fantasio had looked at Spirou and Spirou had looked at Fantasio and their expressions were near blank, but even Seccotine had read the same timid question plastered on both of their faces:  
  
 _Would you…?_

 

And for the first time in her life, the journalist known as Seccotine knew she had been thrown for the proverbial loop.  
  


***

 


	2. II

***

 

It seemed Spirou had wanted more than a one-time fling, and even though Seccotine didn’t like to admit it, neither had she.

So they continued to meet up, hook up, see each other, date,

And Fantasio continued to complain.

She couldn’t see what all the fuss was about- it wasn’t like the old grouch was sorely lacking his own escapades of the female persuasion- but it was obvious that whatever was growing between her and Spirou, Fantasio didn’t like it.

Seccotine had always seen her rivalry with her fellow blond journalist as something flippant, not serious. Certainly they got under each other’s skin as they traded insults and swiped each other’s stories, but she honestly had nothing against the older man…

…Didn’t he feel the same way?  

None the less, she had expected the worst, but oddly enough, she didn’t get it, because Fantasio was too busy throwing his vitriol at his best friend instead.

 

***

 

The following weeks and the following visits made Seccotine feel like she might as well have entered the Land of the Bizzaro, where down was up, green was red, and Spirou and Fantasio were constantly at each other’s throats. Even right now, she could hear them in their kitchen, screaming about nothing, while she waited in the living room, nonchalantly sipping her tea, like there wasn’t some sort of emotional calamity happening less than ten feet away from her.

It was rather disconcerting, and not only because they fought,

 

“You might as well move out if there’s nothing left for you here anyway!”

“Maybe I fucking will! You think I _like_ putting up with this crap?”

“YOU’RE the one who had to go and mess everything up!”

 

But how they almost sounded, at least to her, like lovers on the verge of a break-up.  
 __

_I’m not gonna be paranoid, I’m not gonna be paranoid, I’m not gonna be…_

Just as her mind started to wander back to the incident on the mountain, she was startled into reality by the sound of swinging doors being flung violently open as Fantasio stormed through the living room and up the stairs to the second floor, not even giving Seccotine a second glance.

After a tense moment of silence, she heard the doors swing open again, much more quietly, and Spirou wearily walked into the room, flopping down on the couch beside her.   
  
“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” he whispered forlornly.

Seccotine smiled sympathetically and scooted behind the slightly younger man, massaging his shoulders and kneading the tense muscles.

“I know, little sparrow,” she sighed, using her odd term of endearment reserved for these moments between them. “He’s being very strange about it, though. It would be so much easier and make so much more sense if he was mad at me instead, right?”

“I suppose,” Spirou muttered. “I suppose.”

Seccotine couldn’t help but to pout a little as she worked a particularly stubborn knot in her paramour’s neck. It bothered her to see him so despondent; it just wasn’t like him at all…  
 __

 _Well, this is Bizzaro World_ , she reminded herself with a tinge of dark humour.

Suddenly, Spirou stood up from the couch. “No. Not like this.”

Seccotine blinked at him, confused. “Spirou?”

The redhead curled one of his hands into a fist. “Me and him. We’re going to settle it once and for all. I don’t know if we can fix this, but damn it, I love the bastard enough to try.”

He turned around, bending down to place a soft kiss on Seccotine’s surprised lips.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he declared with a wry grin. “If you see blood dripping down the stairs, call one-one-two.”

“Spirou-” she had wanted interject, but the young man had already bounded up the stairs, mind clearly made up.

The blonde woman exhaled and leaned against the backrest.

 

This was definitely going to get ugly.  
  


_***  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -112 is the emergency number for most of the European countries, including Belgium and France (I believe).  
> -Spirou actually swears A LOT when he’s pissed; the comics just censor it.


	3. III

***

Seccotine was getting impatient- waiting for her Knight in Reckless Armour had proven to be annoying, uncomfortable, not to mention _extremely_ unlike herself,

But perhaps, most of all, it was boring.

Seccotine did not do boring. She was a journalist, for heaven’s sake! Where was her sense of adventure, her need to find out the truth?

Right where she left it, she reminded herself.

So with her resolve set, remaining as fleet-footed and as silent as if she were back out on the field, shadowing a mafia don’s drug ring, Seccotine crept up the stairwell. Finding that the door of one of the bedrooms (probably Fantasio’s) was opened more than a fracture, she decided to remain between the top and the middle of the flight, concealed enough to make a quick getaway, but close enough to prepare herself for whatever horrors she was about to witness- 

And there they were; sitting on the edge of the bed, laughing and joking like the near-month of hell they put each other through had never existed, with even their little squirrel, who she remembered was called Spip, curled up in one of their laps.

It was clear that _something_ had gone down, though, what with Spirou sporting what looked like a black eye and Fantasio donning a rather noticeable split lip, but somehow, for some reason, it seemed inconsequential to the moment.

Despite herself, Seccotine couldn’t help but to feel relaxed; so that was it: all they needed was to get into a fist fight and now everything was back to the status quo. Peachy.

Until it dawned upon her that the bedroom was suddenly quiet.

Refocusing her attention, she watched as Fantasio and Spirou looked away from each other. Even Spip had taken his leave, hopping to an outside tree from the open window, almost as if he sensed something was about to happen. The mood seemed more sombre, the tension almost palpable as they both seemed to muster the courage to once again look each other in the eye.

Seccotine’s nerves were on fire. _What are they…?_

Then Spirou reached out and gently placed his hand on the back of Fantasio’s neck, pulling him in close, close enough to press their-

 

 _-_ _OH MY GOD THEY’RE ACTUALLY GOING TO-_ _  
_

-foreheads together. Not lips.

Only foreheads.

And it was only then that she realized she wasn’t breathing.

She continued to watch, more confused than relieved, as the two men leaned into their private tête-à-tête, the redhead whispering something to the blond just outside of Seccotine’s hearing range.

From the way Fantasio’s eyes were closed in a mix of something akin to relish and pain, however, it was probably something that the older man had desperately wanted to hear, or maybe just needed to.

She daren’t imagine what it was.

The older man nodded slightly, leaning back enough to embrace the redhead instead. Spirou chuckled as he returned it, patting his best friend heartily on the back.

Only when they had finally pulled away from each other and stood up from the bed did Seccotine slink down to the living room and collapse back on the couch, taking a moment to digest what she had seen:

Even though nothing had really happened, it was still a rather voyeuristic experience, as she was pretty sure that she had witnessed a side of their relationship no other person was meant to see, and she could even understand why that was; their bond clearly went beyond the realms of friendship, but if it wasn’t romantic, then where did it fit? They loved each other, so much that even the blind would have no trouble seeing it, but what boundaries were present? Which ones had they crossed?

If these questions were confusing enough for her, she could only imagine what Spirou and Fantasio had to go through on a regular basis. 

And perhaps this was why her presence had disrupted so much between them.

It seemed she had a few things to think about; mostly pertaining to her relationship with Spirou, but even then, there was one thing she knew for sure:

She didn’t like losing to Fantasio, so she certainly wasn’t going to bow out, not by a long shot, but maybe, perhaps, she could stand to make some elbow room.

If only just a little.

 

***

 

It was an elegant set-up.

Even Seccotine, with her keen eye for detail encompassing more than her working profession, had to admit it as she mingled with the socialites and traded small-talk with her kin-in-journalism.

The party was taking place at an aristocrat’s rather lavish penthouse suite, celebrating his generous contribution to open a new art gallery in the city, and only the most elite of the press were given an invitation.

So, of course, she had no problems obtaining one.

It was a black-tie affair for all individuals, and as such, even Seccotine had to abandon her usual work outfit in place of a sleek black cocktail dress, donned with only a modest amount of makeup and jewellery.

Despite her milling about, it wasn’t until she made her way outside that she had found them:  
  
Two men leaning on the ledge of the terrace, bodies facing the city’s skyline, heads turned towards each other, one with hair of fiery red, the other a flaxen blond, one perhaps just a couple of inches taller than the other. They wore tuxedos, red and blue, and each held a champagne glass in opposite hands. They were standing close enough to be shoulder-to-shoulder, and even then, one would lean in to hear the words of the other, and sometimes, they would laugh in perfect unison.

Despite the age gap and other physical differences between them, she had never seen two people look more like mirror images.

And they were beautiful.

Seccotine had faltered on herself, however, when she realized she _had_ meant the both of them.

Gathering her wits, she glided to the other side of the redhead, who acknowledged her with a warm smile and a quick peck on the lips, the fellow blond with a smirk and a nod.

“So, gentlemen,” she began, “how are we enjoying ourselves this evening?”

“Just fine until a few a seconds ago.” Fantasio replied flippantly.

Spirou gave his friend a light nudge in the ribs. “Be nice.”

Seccotine giggled. She knew he knew that Fantasio was only teasing, but she supposed Spirou still had to defend her honour out of some sort of romantic obligation, as silly as it might be.

“Well, there is a possibility my mind may be changed,” Fantasio carried on, moving away from Spirou, “If I may honour the lady with a dance?”

He bowed and opened his palm towards her, all formalities and theatrics and even though she wasn’t up for dancing she HAD to know what in the world her journalistic rival was playing at.

She cast a glance towards the man dressed in red. “…Sparrow?”

Spirou laughed. “Since when have you needed my permission for anything?”

Seccotine replied by kissing him on the cheek before taking Fantasio’s hand to be led to the portion of the apartment redesigned as a dance floor. She placed her hand on his shoulder as he tentatively settled his on her waist, and with their other hands clasped together, they moved to the music.

“It’s the both of us.” he finally murmured when the song hit a quiet interlude.

“Come again?” she replied, genuinely curious.

“You heard me, woman.” Fantasio grumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly. “He told me he wants to be with you, but he can’t bear to lose me either. And yes, I know what you’re thinking; so to answer, yes, it _is_ like that, but at the same time, it’s _not_. We’re still figuring out the schematics ourselves, so-”

Seccotine moved the hand from his shoulder to gently press a finger to his rambling lips.

“…So you’re basically saying he can’t imagine the rest of his life without both of us in it, and you want to honour that.” she finished off.

Fantasio raised an eyebrow. “How perceptive of you,” he stated, twirling her in the air in time to one of the song’s crescendos.

She smirked. “I have my moments.”

“So what do you propose? A custody battle?”

Seccotine chuckled. “And put our little Spirou through such turmoil? I’m sure we can do better than that.”

The blond sighed. “Fair enough.”

“It could be possible…” she entertained as Fantasio dipped her and pulled her back, “…that we can share in a way that takes some of the pressure off him, the pressure of maintaining two different, but similar, relationships.”

“Hm. Explain.” he monotonously answered.

“Well…” she sighed, motioning their current circumstances. “Look at where we are now.”

They continued to remain in their dancing position; face-to-face, arms around waist and shoulders.

The song had ended several minutes ago.

“I see.” Fantasio bit his lip. “Perhaps we should do something about that.”

Seccotine laughed, mere inches away from the older man, eyebrow raised cockily.

“Funny,” she crooned. “I believe we already are.”

 

***

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on tumblr, and I decided to bring it over here as well. 
> 
> I highly recommend reading the comic, though. There are some English scanlations online.
> 
> This story was inspired particularly by the comic "Le Tombeau des Champignac".


End file.
